Ghostwood Guardians
by FriendlyCurse
Summary: A few short stories set in Twin Peaks and the Ghostwood forest surrounding the town.
1. Ghostwood Graves

"..._Feed the immortal children..."_

The giant had looked upon her with a sympathetic smile for a brief moment before the bright light faded and he disappeared. Helen often thought of that night. The end of her 'normal' life and the beginning of something more. She was still not certain whether to regret it, whether to feel bitter about her loss. Had she actually lost anything?

She had been fourteen that night. The night she ran away from home. Her parents were closet alcoholics and no one else believed that they were abusive. The few she had told the truth to had taken it to be the exaggerated whining of a teenager who didn't get her way. The night her father almost broke her arm she waited for her parents to pass out, packed everything she could carry and ran.

Within two hours she was lost in the Ghostwood forest and wishing she had stayed closer to the road. She couldn't afford to be close enough to it for anyone to see her, though. Twin Peaks was a small enough town that if anyone at all had seen her they would have taken her right back home.

She wandered in the forest all the next day, scared and alone. Though she had raided the kitchen and took enough food to last for a few days there was an inevitable end to what she had with her. There were rumors of people who went to live in the woods, living off the land far from civilization - all she could do was hope to find one and hope they were friendly.

Night had fallen with no success on her part. Every tree looked like every other tree. Every hill just had more trees on the other side. A few squirrels, birds and bugs were the only living things she had seen all day.

She curled up against a large tree, wrapped up in the little blanket she had rolled up and tied to her bag, and cried until she ran out of tears. When she had finally worn herself out she watched the moon and stars through the branches overhead.

After a while she became aware of an owl watching her from nearby. She had always loved the owls that always seemed to be around at night and the familiarity offered some small, calming anchor. She began talking to it to make herself feel better. Less alone. She apologized for intruding on what was probably its home and scaring away all the mice then explained why she was there. She did feel better getting everything off her chest even though the owl couldn't talk back.

She drifted to sleep under the watchful eye of her new friend. Whether the bright light woke her or she saw it in her dream, she never did figure out. All she ever ascertained with any certainty was that the giant was real.

Feeding the immortal children... she didn't understand it at first. She spent most of the night shivering and trying to figure out what could possibly be immortal...

Helen smiled to herself and tipped the watering can to sprinkle the ground beside the sycamore sapling. Almost twenty years she had been watering this circle of saplings and they had never grown an inch. The owl had led her to the sycamores early the next morning and from them to a small abandoned cabin with a spring near it.

She doubted their 'immortality' at first but a sapling was like a child so she had begun watering the trees every day. In return the forest hid her from all those who sought her. They only really searched for a few weeks and she had cowered in her little house any time anyone came near. She was most worried about Deputy Hawk - he was one of the best trackers in the state and he almost always found missing children who got lost in the forest. She thanked the giant every time someone came near and walked away without seeming to see her house.

The giant had never spoken to her again but she saw him once in a while. She liked to think he was checking on her and he always seemed pleased when she waved at him. He was not the only spirit in the forest, though. She saw others, heard things that terrified her. A few of them saw her, too... but they never approached. She was certain the giant protected her as she protected the sycamores and after seeing the man with the long, gray hair watching her - the man she thought of as the Big Bad Wolf - she never missed a single day of watering the trees.

She never wanted any of them to think for a moment she was not upholding her end of the bargain and she knew that even returning to the town would not save her if she got tired of her life of isolation. She had to feed the children. It was all that kept the Big Bad Wolf away... she could see that in his eyes when he stared at her.

Once the watering can was empty she made her way back to the cabin, smiling at the owl perched in the tree nearest the door. The can went on its usual hook but rather than go inside she had one more task. Her smile faded as she picked up the old shovel and kept walking. The spring was behind the house to the south. She followed a small trail north until she reached the edge and sighed. The rows of rocks were as she had left them and it was almost time to add more.

She stepped carefully past the existing stones and began digging at the end of the last row. She would start a new row next time. Hopefully there would only be one added this time but the Big Bad Wolf was hungry when he escaped the sycamores and there was no telling how many he would target, how many would be spared.

It had been so long since she had seen Twin Peaks that she didn't recognize anyone he left in the forest to die anymore. Now and then she would recognize features and be able to guess at the family the person had come from but most often it was just another unfortunate soul. One who found the curtain whether by accident or because one of the spirits guided them to it.

Helen had never been brave enough to step through the curtain and lost all desire to do so the first time one of the people stumbled back out, badly wounded and terrified. He hadn't survived long enough to return to town. His was the third stone in her graveyard. The first two were people the Big Bad Wolf left near the sycamores for her to find. While he didn't seem to be able to hurt her or even speak with her directly, he did enjoy trying to frighten her. Remind her she was not forgotten.

All she could do was hope that some day someone would find a way to stop him. As much as she wanted to try she knew that the day she attempted anything she would lose her protection and she had seen people far stronger than she was fall to madness when he targeted them. Better to simply dig their graves and pray for their souls.


	2. The Right Hand

The rasp of the pages turning was often the only sound he heard. On a good day. He stared at the words without seeing them and tried to forget the rustle of feathers, the ominous hoot. He could barely remember the days of his youth when he had loved owls. Now... Now he just wanted to run.

If only it would do any good. He dreamed about escape, a normal life in a big city far from this cursed forest but he knew it would never be more than a dream.

_"You will help me... You can be my willing right hand or I can be __**your**_ _hands." _Bob's threat, spoken through a curtain of stringy gray hair, still seemed to ring in his ears some days. He had thought to fight that first night so many years ago... but then Bob had showed him as if it were really happening, he had seen what would happen if he fought.

Bob was not a human and felt only giddy joy when he destroyed lives, shed the blood of innocent people, tortured them to insanity... and if he did not follow orders, if he refused to lure victims to the woods, Bob would steal his body and kill everyone he loved. He would have to see his wife, his son, his friends as they died by the hands of someone they trusted.

Bob had sworn to leave his family in peace if he did as he was told and he had to agree. As terrible as the thought was, as much as his future scared him, he surrendered. That night he walked away from his family in the dead of night with only one bag full of clothes and a few treasured books.

At Bob's direction he plied a specific woman in the Roadhouse with a few too many drinks and took her to the forest. Bob met them there and directed him to his new home. The woman's screams followed him most of the way there.

Three books of philosophy, four novels, and the Bible. That was all he had for company most of the time at first. He had slowly accumulated a few more but none of them helped. However he chose to interpret reality, what he was doing was wrong and he had to find a way out. Every time he had tried it was as if Bob was was watching and waiting to remind him.

The first time he tried to run away he seems only to blink and he was standing on the edge of town with a knife in his hands. He had been scared enough he didn't try again for over a year. After screams seemed to chase him home a few more times he decided to try again, leaving in the morning since he mostly saw Bob at night. Again he blinked and lost time, opening his eyes to find himself standing outside his house with that damned knife.

He didn't try again, he could feel the almost psychotic combination of angry disapproval and cheerful expectation from the man who deemed himself the King of Ghostwood. Bob saw the town of Twin Peaks as his toy collection.

The low hoot of the owl sounded again and he cringed, it was almost time. Bob was restless. The owls were always noisy when he was ready for a new toy to be brought to him.

"What have I done?" He whispered to himself as he recalled the faces of the innocent people he had led or dragged to their deaths. The weight of the guilt had become almost tangible since the last one... the woman had seemed so genuinely sweet that he was absolutely certain the world was a worse place without her.

They had talked for quite some time before the inevitable end. He knew it had to stop, he had to find a way. The problem he came across again and again was that there seemed only one way and Bob was a very spiteful man. He knew if he killed himself he would go to Hell and certainly deserve it but he was less certain as to the fate of others. Would his family still be killed? Would Bob just replace him? The hidden cabin he lived in had been old when he arrived so it was possible he had replaced someone else.

Every book he had read agreed that suicide was foolish but he had to get out, had to stop, he simply _had to_ for his own sanity. Those books didn't really apply to him - there _was_ no hope, things would _not_ get better.

The hoot of an owl pushed at his mind and a cold sweat accompanied him to the rustic kitchen. _Not again. I can't do it again... _

Before he could change his mind or Bob could stop him, he snatched a knife from the sink and plunged it into his chest as close to his heart as possible. Pain filled his awareness then faded as panic set in and his adrenaline began pumping at a surge of low laughter across the room. He looked up to see Bob watching with a wide grin.

"There is no way out." Bob said cheerfully as he approached the quickly spreading pool of blood. "Especially not now."

He took a breath to scream but his aim with the knife had been good and he was already woozy. A shattered sigh was all that came out as he fell to the floor and through it… falling, falling, falling….

Ground appeared under him, jagged black and white lines. He looked around at walls covered by red curtains, sparse furnishings, a single light… and Bob. That horrible smile, a wild hunger fueled by madness in those eyes…

He clambered to his feet and ran for the curtain, discovering it had no wall behind it. The moment he found an edge and pulled it aside he heard the thumping of Bob's boots approaching fast behind him. A hallway, more curtains…

Terror pushed him to move faster as the demon chased him through the endless maze. Somewhere in the back of his mind a tiny, insane voice giggled. _What's black and white and red all over? So this is Hell..._


End file.
